i'm coming home
by 25211021114
Summary: As he goes to sleep that night, in the shabby inn he chooses to stay with his sparse savings, he looks on the glittering stars that litter amongst the murky sky out the window. He's never seen them shine as bright as they have before. He dreams of clowns, of circuses and beautiful laughter.


**Hello! This is my first work in the DGM fandom, so I'm a bit anxious... Please be gentle with me and enjoy!**

* * *

Drenched in splatters of mud and cold, cold silence, Allen is shocked to the bone as a tiny droplet splashes down upon his cheek. He raises a finger to touch the little spot of wetness, and wonders if he is crying.

It wouldn't be surprising, but no - Allen hasn't cried in days, months, years, he forgets - for those tears have long since dried up, clogged underneath his cursed eyelids and shriveled up into the depths of his soul. He holds up his palms. One by one, a droplet of water lands into a pool from the skies. Soon, the pool overflows and the drizzle forms a pour of roaring rain.

The heavens are crying, and Allen can't even laugh at the irony of it.

For whatever reason, it definitely isn't out of pity for him.

* * *

He shivers, wrapping the old worn-out trench coat tightly around himself like a thin, spread-out lifeline, and prays he will find shelter soon. The biting wind curls around Allen threateningly, and he despairs quietly of his shortening supplies. He will need money soon, and food, he hasn't felt truly full for months - and might not be any longer for the rest of his meagre life.

Despair. Slight hope. Despair, again and again. The flurry of emotions that plague him for every single day ever since he has been on the run strike close to his heart once more.

 _Keep walking._

"Keep walking, huh…" The hoarse voice that chokes out of his throat is unexpected, and Allen is hit with the realization that he hasn't heard himself for such a long time. He then smiles, although a slight bit of self-deprecating clouds his features.

Allen looks overhead, and the graying skyline has not yet ceased its downpour. The rain falls against the gloomy cobblestones at his feet, sliding along the flow down the drain. The streets are chillingly empty, blasted by the white noise of the endless storm. A little streetlamp by his side, he barely notices, flickers weakly before it goes out. It's fitting, how bleak and depressing his surroundings are.

He staggers towards an alleyway, and almost cries out in relief when he notices a little part of the roof that's a big enough size to provide temporary cover till the rain subsides. As he huddles beneath it, Allen's mind wanders.

How long has it been?

He has no idea.

* * *

Back when he'd had no name for himself to hold on, no identity, just _Red_ , the little monster who had been abandoned for his horrible, _horrible_ appalling arm - things had been much simpler. The Black Order simply did not exist. Neither did the Noah Clan. No Cross, no Mana, no Allen.

Just Red.

But as Allen has realized throughout the startling revelations in the past few months, maybe Red hadn't existed either, back then.

 _Who am I?_

Spending his entire life running, always moving on. Never once has he looked back. And now he's discovered that it hasn't been his choice to; there had never a past to look back on.

* * *

Allen smiles as he observes the tiny child, fascinated by the way her eyes glimmer of delight and her fists shake in excitement. As he balances on the circus ball, juggling his tricks in every attempt to capture his audience's attention, a pang of nostalgia hits him. Of the days he once had, travelling along with Mana like this, performing from town to town.

She giggles as the balls he is juggling suddenly bursts into an explosion of colours and sparkles. The crowd behind her cries out in wonder, and a myriad of clapping resounds for him.

Ending the street performance with an amount required for him to at least eat somewhat comfortably and find some place to sleep, Allen retires for the day. He's tired. Somehow, he's much more tired than he's ever felt before, and that's a bit weird. He wonders if it's Neah's doing. He wonders if this has anything to do with the Noah's eventual takeover.

He wonders if he should stop blaming everything on the Fourteenth.

As he goes to sleep that night, in the shabby inn he chooses to stay with his sparse savings, he looks on the glittering stars that litter amongst the murky sky out the window. He's never seen them shine as bright as they have before.

He dreams of clowns, of circuses and beautiful laughter.

He also sees the image of Mana's prone, lifeless form right after that.

* * *

 _"Welcome home!" Allen is startled by the thunderous shout from all sides. He looks up._

 _One by one, they appear._

 _Like an apparition, they materialize, and Allen's heart reaches out for them as they gaze at him warmly. Like an apparition, its existence as frail as a shadow, ready to fade into darkness at the barest moments. A hand takes his._

 _Komui. "Welcome home," His eyes curving into receiving enthusiasm, and Allen stares at him, unable to comprehend the figure standing right before him._

 _"Allen!" His name, his_ name _, is echoed by everyone around him._

 _Lenalee. Kanda. Lavi. Everyone standing behind him. Miranda, Krory, Timothy. Link. The finders. The scientists. Master. He sees them, bright eyes, shining like the dotted stars of the night he had observed from afar, and something in his chest clenches._

 _The sight before him wavers. Slowly, gently, it all finally slides into gray. He stands there, unmoving._

 _All of them have disappeared._

* * *

 _"Don't you ever think about it?"_ Komui's voice, lilt and easy, rhythmic and comforting, as Allen looks unseeing at the falling night rain, once again adorning the sky. His mind, an image of a single piano, sitting in the middle of the white-washed room. The world breaking into pieces, a hand reaching towards the score-

 _"First, I'll say "Welcome back," and give everybody a pat on the shoulder…"_

He is no one. Just a little boy, watching the raindrops go _drip drip drip_ against his face. Ah, but are those really made of rain? He doesn't want to remember.

 _"Then, I'll wrap my arms around Lenalee and hug her as tight as I can!"_

He starts to remember. Everyone. The little red clown, dancing out of his grasp, out of sight, out of reach. Allen Walker.

He's Allen Walker.

 _"As for Allen, well, I'll just have to make sure there's a ton of food for him to eat."_

Komui's words, on that day, on the Ark are burned directly into his brain. It all surges up, the emotions bubbling within bursting out like a dam which has been stoppered for years. The sides of his mouth sardonically tilt up, unexpectedly. A ton of food to eat…

 _"Right about then, I daresay Lavi will just end up falling asleep. I'll have to make sure there's a blanket for him…"_

 _"And the older ones will want to have some wine and toast. We'll all throw a huge party and then all go to sleep…"_

 _"It'll be great. But oh," Komui turning exasperatedly fond, "Kanda will be late. He'll probably wander in and throw a sour look around the room."_

Allen chokes out loud, mouth falling open in quiet sobs, body filling with _want_ and desperation, and there's nothing he's ever needed more-

 _Welcome home._

And so, in the deathly silent night pounded by the crashing rain surrounding him, even with nobody around and he's so, so _alone_ , Allen whispers, "I'm back."

He then says it much louder, after that, barely a croak but with much more confidence, "I'm back!" And he believes.

 _I'm… home._

* * *

 _and so the boy | fell deep asleep |_

 _the gasping flames within the ashes | one by one |_

 _rise up and expand | into that beloved face |_

 _thousands of dreams | suspended from the earth_

 _on the night when those silver eyes trembled | you were born | shining brightly |_

 _hundreds of millions of months and years | no matter how many prayers are returned to the earth_

I shall continue praying.

* * *

 **Maybe... leave a comment before you go off?**


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